Maturity
by Innate
Summary: Twenty years old and fresh out of prison, Draco Malfoy has no place in the world, living under a friend's roof... Until an intelligent woman brings the spark back into his life. DMHG, Some adult themes. PostDH,  may contain spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Characters in this story are owned by J.K. Rowling, yada yada.

**Author's Note**: I use muggle clothing for the people in this story, only because I wouldn't know if they wear different types of robes and whatnot outside of Hogwarts.. Soo, muggle clothing for the variation of what they wear. Well.. I hope you like it. (:

Also, I don't have any betas at the moment, so if you'd like to throw ideas at me and all that fun correcting, please say so in a review and post your e-mail. I'm new at having betas, so you may have to bear with me. Thanks!

----------------------------------

**CHAPTER ONE**

It had been three years since the destruction of Lord Voldemort and his wrath. Things were going well for the wizarding world. Society had slipped back into their normal lives after nearly a year of rejoicing and repairing. Now, the magical economy was at its peak in Britain. Hogwarts continued to be one of the finest wizarding schools in the world, as well as downright famous as the scene at which Voldemort fell. Finally, all magic folk could live undisturbed and protected. At least, from any terror as large in scale as Voldemort inflicted.

The Death Eaters had all been sent to Azkaban, guarded once more by dementors that had been rounded up and forced to gather around gleaming patronuses for days as punishment for their disloyalty. The other magical creatures that had sided with Voldemort had also been tracked down and harshly disciplined. Numerous Death Eaters committed suicide in horror that their powerful master had failed. They would rather die than face the gruesome consequences that lay before them due to their treachery to the public. Several of the younger Death Eaters were released early, to the dismay of many. The Ministry was much more sympathetic towards them than their older relatives.

A young man, tall and weary, held a tattered piece of parchment in his grimy hands. His hair was a mess, one could hardly tell it was once a silver-blonde color. His face was unshaven, his clothes just as tattered and dirty as the rest of his body. The effects of the dementors were still lingering upon the poor man as he wandered about the streets, searching for his destination.

"_Come to my place and I can help you when you get out of Azkaban,"_ said the friend that had given him the parchment three years ago. Now he was out.

And here was the place, after hours of meandering. He had forgotten how to navigate the streets, and who could blame him? Furrowing his brows in a questioning manner, the young man placed a free hand on the steel gates before him. _Is it safe to enter?_ Of course it appeared normal from the exterior, but after all this time he still knew better than to doubt the presence of magical protection.

"Draco Malfoy."

The only display of his surprise was a twitch of his finger as he turned smoothly on his heel.

"Zabini."

The man standing before Draco was everything Draco was currently not. The man was obviously well-groomed, dark-skinned, and seemed relatively spirited in a conceited way. Blaise stood there with a slight smirk, clearly inspecting Draco's appearance. There was no need for words to explain that he fully disapproved, yet was faintly amused by it.

"I see you've been living well," Draco remarked rather indifferently. So his old classmate had been soaking up a wonderful life for the past few years, while Draco had slumped in a silent suffering in prison... Resentment bubbled inside of him.

Following a lengthy pause, and relentless staring, Blaise nodded curtly and opened the gates with a wave of his wand. "Do come in," he said, an aura of class floating about his voice. He strode quickly ahead and across the enormous lawn that separated the gate from a plain-looking home. As Draco made his way toward it, however, it revealed itself as a mere illusion, merging into the gorgeous mansion it really was.

As they stepped inside, a soft but clear voice rang through the fancy, dome-shaped entryway.

"Darling, is that you?"

It sounded as if heels were tapping against a marble floor, and sure enough, a beautiful young woman appeared above one of the dual staircases.

She halted in her steps when she spotted Draco. For a moment, she looked simply surprised, but it promptly faded and was replaced by a smile. "Oh, you brought company, how wonderful!" She made her way down the stairs, her voluminous blonde hair swaying. Once she approached them, she gave Blaise a swift peck on the cheek and then turned to look at Draco. She continued to smile, although her eyes betrayed the same reaction Blaise had shown regarding Draco's appearance.

"You remember Draco Malfoy, honey," Blaise announced to her absentmindedly, "and Draco, you remember Hannah Abbott," and took his leave without another word.

"Of course! I didn't recognize you!" Hannah giggled and turned, motioning to him to follow. "I'm sure you want to wash up."

Draco presented her with a weak smile and silently followed her, his brain absorbing the magnitude of the estate, among other things. He vaguely recalled that she was once a pink-faced, pigtailed girl. Much had changed, and she had definitely blossomed into someone beautiful enough for Blaise Zabini's standards. This was a sure sign of improvement.

He noticed that they passed by countless sitting rooms, restrooms, bedrooms, all seemingly there for looks. He also noticed that they were all tidy, not a sheet of dust in sight. He wondered how many house elves they owned.

Finally, Hannah showed him to a larger bedroom with its own magnificent bathroom. It was a spectacular place to stay, and naturally caused him to feel quite out of place. The walls were of a dark green hue, and the furniture appeared to all be derived of mahogany wood. To the left side of the room was a king-sized four-poster bed, neatly made with expensive-looking sheets. Of course, everything in this mansion was expensive-looking, and he doubted that anything wasn't. He felt inclined to take a long nap on the inviting bed, but instead closed and bolted the door once Hannah left, promptly heading towards his right, past a sitting area and a study area.

The bathroom was just as pleasant, with an unusually large bathtub, not unlike the prefect tub back at Hogwarts; he noticed there were no faucets nor handles. The relaxing beauty of the place was obliterated once his grey eyes met his reflection in the mirror. His outgrown and mangled hair fell across his face, giving him a moody appearance. He despised the way he looked, and was suddenly eager to bathe and change into suitable clothing.

In moments, he had flung his clothes aside. The bathtub magically filled to the top with tepid, bubbly water as a toe dipped inside. Draco let out a soft sigh of relief as he slid down and loosened his muscles. His eyes drooped shut as he breathed in the scent of flowers. He had forgotten how good a bath could feel. During his three years in Azkaban, the prisoners were magically cleansed with spells once every couple of months. It wasn't a particularly good system, especially because the spell was only mildly effective.

He reached over to the side of the tub and squeezed soap from a bottle. He then proceeded to wash his skin thoroughly and shampoo and condition his hair, removing all the residue. The bath felt so soothing that he was starting to nod off before he finally decided that he was done. The water in the tub vanished seconds after Draco stepped out of it. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist as he walked to the mirror above the sink.

Still dissatisfied with the way he looked, he snatched a bewitched razor and shaving cream and let it remove the mustache and beard that had started to grow. He wasn't sure how to dry his hair, however. His wand had been stolen by Potter three years ago, and he had never gotten a new one. He hadn't required one in Azkaban.

Looking around, he found what appeared to be a blow-dryer in a drawer. He waved it above his head—there was no "on" button—and his hair was instantly dry. Long locks of silky blonde hair fell in his face. He hadn't gelled his hair back in a while, so he searched around for some kind of hair gel. He found it in the same drawer that he had found the blow-dryer. It occurred to him that it must have been bewitched to provide people with what they wanted to use. Convenient. He was impressed.

Once he had slicked his hair back the way he liked it, Draco took two steps back and studied himself in the mirror, with the towel still hanging around his hips. He was as pale as ever, whether that was his normal skin tone or because he hadn't been in the sun during his time in prison. His upper body was not as toned as it once was; he hadn't played Quidditch either. He gently slid his fingers across the scars that were remnants of Potter's bleeding spell.

With a sigh, he sauntered to the closet to pick out a set of clean clothes. He found that everything seemed to be his size. After rummaging amidst the racks of clothing, he selected a plain grey dress shirt and black pants. There were no casual clothes to wear, he had noticed. He assumed that this was because Blaise was big on appearance.

Someone was rapping their knuckles against his door. He stole one last glance at himself as he passed the bathroom, and went to open the door. It was Hannah again.

"Sorry to bother you, but Blaise is having a little party, and he's invited you to join us. It'll be a nice surprise for everyone to finally see you again."

"All right.. I suppose I'll come.." Draco nodded slowly. It would be good to see old acquaintances again, but he also had nothing better to do this afternoon.

Hannah grinned, "Great, the party's out back—just join us whenever you're ready!" With that, she hurried away, leaving Draco to stroll slowly after her and contemplate about which of his former Slytherin associates he'd run into at this party. Not all of them had been sent to Azkaban, after all.

----------------------------------

**Author's Note**: So that was the first chapter, I hope you like it so far! It basically just explained some stuff, introduced people and setting, the usual boringness of the beginning of a story, hehe. Obviously our other star, Hermione, will make her debut in the next chapter.

Please review, I love reviews! I actually get discouraged and sad if I don't get many. xD So make me happy and let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is most welcomed, as is compliments, etc.

Edited: 11 December 2007


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Characters in this story are owned by J.K. Rowling, yada yada.

**Author's Note**: All right, so I ended up not being able to find the file folder containing the part of Chapter 2 that I had already written, so I just wrote a whole new one. Enjoy!

Still no betas, and I'm not expecting to get any. I think I'm a good enough writer to check myself. xD

----------------------------------

**CHAPTER TWO**

While he was thoughtfully strolling to backyard doors, Draco managed to catch a glimpse of an impressive fountain through a window. There seemed to be a fairly large number of people mingling around it outside. This scene acted as trigger, bringing Draco to his senses and dragging him from his thoughts. He anxiously wringed his hands together before clasping them behind his back and walking outside. Not a single person spared him a glance as he loitered around the edge of the massive crowd of people, seeking a familiar face. He was slightly discouraged that he was unable recognize anyone. Not only that, but he was hesitant to speak to anyone. Three years in the confinements of Azkaban with dementors as his only companions had caused him to become uncertain and uncomfortable with crowds.

After walking along the edge of the crowd, he finally entered to continue his search. Now he was determined to find someone—anyone to accompany him. Heads were starting to turn towards him as people began to distinguish him as Draco Malfoy. Whispers followed him as his continued to make his way through the crowd, and all he could do was simply ignore them.

It wasn't long before Blaise appeared by his side, in rather cheery mood. "Malfoy, I had a hunch that you'd arrived when people began whispering! This is usually quite a lively bunch," he remarked, making a vague gesture with his hand, which held a glass of liquor. "Pansy!" Grinning, he suddenly pressed his hand against Draco's upper back, urging him forward and towards a lady with pug-resembling features.

Pansy gasped, "Merlin, Draco, is that you?" She immediately licked her finger and tried to smooth down a strand of hair like a mom would do. This ignited a dark feeling inside of Draco, and he shoved her away from him, throwing her a piercing glare. "What the hell is wrong with you, Parkinson?" he growled under his breath. One he met her, he learned rapidly that she was an attention-seeking whore. Somehow, she had always mistranslated his inattention into him playing hard-to-get. The adoration was definitely not mutual, and he had even voiced it to her numerous times. She had never received the hint.

Now irritated, he pushed his way past Blaise and Pansy, leaving her in a state of astonishment, and toward the labyrinth-like garden that lay just beyond the heap of people. Along the way, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and instinctively turned his head to catch an intense stare from Harry Potter. All Draco could do was wonder how Potter had even become acquaintances with Blaise. He was about to continue on his way, but was halted in his steps by a fairly attractive woman standing near Potter—his girlfriend, perhaps? She was laughing heartily, her smooth brown hair shining in the sun. Her hazel-colored eyes were sparkling with joy.

That was all Draco could afford to notice before he caught himself and moved on. He was certain that Potter had noticed his temporary expression of amazement. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he started down the cobblestone path that wound endlessly through acres of backyard. There were countless sections of circles, each with a different and unique fountain inhabiting the center. Three stone benches surrounded each fountain, and each section was surrounded by tall hedges. Three paths would branch off from each section, each leading to another fountain. It all seemed so surreal.

Draco meandered about for approximately an hour by himself, mulling over what he was supposed to do now that he had been released from Azkaban. It would be a challenge to dissolve back into society; former Death Eaters were unsurprisingly looked down upon with absolute contempt. He gazed down at his forearm, where the Dark Mark lay hidden beneath his sleeve. It was similar to a muggle tattoo in that it was a permanent imprint on the skin. No spell, no potion, was powerful enough. Unfortunately, he would have to live with this curse—the curse he had brought upon himself when he had accepted the responsibilities as a follower of Voldemort. What regret and shame he felt now.

All of a sudden, a rush of bliss and warmth flooded through his body. The garden opened up into a vast Quidditch pitch, leaving Draco with a feeling of great relief. Finally there was something here that he could relate to—something that he cherished in his life. Quidditch meant everything to him... He just loved flying, feeling the cool breeze against his cheeks and through his hair. He looked fretfully around, hoping that by some chance, there would be a broom to utilize. There—he located a rack of broomsticks hanging upside down. Quickly walking over and selecting one of the newer-looking ones, he slid the smooth wood of the handle through his fingers.

He could not suppress a small smile as he swung his leg over and lifted into the air, swiftly soaring toward the clouds. He circled the stadium several times in total ecstasy before hovering in the air high above a set of Quidditch goals. He took a long breath of crisp, clean air and studied his surroundings, taking in the beauty of everything below him. From this height, he could see the real size of Blaise's estate. On one side of the building was the city, and on the other side were acres of nature—the Quidditch pitch sandwiched in between the fountain labyrinth and the forest beyond.

Closing his eyes, he pictured the stands surrounding the stadium filled with spectators. Draco smirked to himself, and promptly began swerving around, searching for the Snitch. Suddenly, he rolled to his side as a bludger nearly bludgeoned his head. That was a close call. The Snitch! It was there, in the direction that the bludger had flown. He whirled into action, speeding towards it—but it always seemed to be just out of his grasp. He urged his broomstick forward—Potter! The name was bitter, even in his mind, as he saw a flash of crimson and gold streak in front of him. He was forced to veer to his right to avoid a collision. In moments, he saw Potter, his glasses askew, holding the Snitch triumphantly in the air and throwing Draco a bragging look.

Draco's eyes snapped open, and he shook his head slightly, his insides bubbling with discouragement and resentment. That Potter kid.. How he loathed the do-good grin of his and the joyous laughter of his faithful mudblood and Weasel allies. He had also excelled in Seeking, and resulted in yet another could-be talent squashed. Throughout his life, Potter had always taken what Draco wanted, whether it be a trusting ear or a skill. He had always taken pleasure in degrading Potter and his friends.

He felt a slight twinge of guilt. He knew that what he felt was simply envy. After all, he could not purely hate Harry Potter. Not after that night he had rescued Draco from that horrifying fire in the Room of Requirements.

Draco's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sense of being watched. He turned the broom around and squinted downward. The person below immediately started making his or her way back to the fountains. However, they couldn't be quicker than a broom. In seconds, Draco had directed the broom in their path, and smoothly transitioned to the ground. He took long strides toward what appeared to be the same woman he saw beside Potter earlier. If she was his girlfriend, he thought to himself, she was not welcome in his presence.

"What reason do you have to be here?" he huffed at her, dismissing the fact that she was looking rather pale and timid as he approached her. She didn't answer, looking absolutely petrified. "Are you deaf? Why are you here?" he repeated, realizing how aggressive he must appear.

All of a sudden, the look of terror wiped from her face, and her eyes seemed to light up. "Draco Malfoy?" Her tone was uncomfortably mocking to Draco, but he slowly tipped his chin up and down and looked more questioningly at her. How the hell did she know..?

"Wow, you really haven't changed much, have you?" she inspected him, just as everyone else had. Making a small noise of disapproval, she continued, "All that seems to have changed is you're white as a sheet and skinnier." It seemed as if she was taking great satisfaction in belittling him.

That critical tone... Draco's eyes widened very slightly. "Mudblood," he muttered under his breath, low enough so that it was inaudible to her.

"What? You'll have to speak louder, or are you hearing impaired?"

He promptly shifted into his smooth, arrogant persona. "Excuse me, Granger? I believe that you were the one that was unable to answer my question," he drawled, the corner of his mouth curving upwards in a slight smirk.

She almost snorted at him, and drew out her wand, aiming at his face.

"You know, I never really took you as the type to attack a defenseless person." Raising his hands to show that he was no threat, he began circling her.

"What are you doing?" demanded Hermione.

"Wow, Granger, did you always have an ass?" he inquired, feigning seriousness.

She flushed pink and threw him an incredulous look before she regained her composure. "Did you always have a big head?" she retorted, immediately regretting her words. What a stupid reply.

Feigning shock this time, he stopped in his steps. "Granger, I am genuinely hurt. How could you say such a lie? My head is perfectly average-sized. Now go run along and cuddle with that Weasel boyfriend of yours. If you stand around me longer, you may contaminate me with your mudblood germs," he sneered.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think against it, and simply shot him a dirty look before retreating. She was apparently upset over this short encounter. Hopefully, there would be more, and perhaps Potter or Weasley would be thrown in as well. Draco had forgotten how pleasant it felt to demoralize others.

----------------------------------

**Author's Note**: I know I promised a longer chapter, but I was just struggling to even write this. This was the last week of school before the holiday break, and I was just swamped with tests and everything. Anyway, sorry for the time you had to wait for this chapter, but please review!


End file.
